The Yale Literary Magazine, المجلد 76

الغلاف الأمامي
1911

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الصفحة 318 - And yet, steeped in sentiment as she lies, spreading her gardens to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age, who will deny that Oxford, by her ineffable charm, keeps ever calling us nearer to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to perfection, — to beauty, in a word, io which is only truth seen from another side?
الصفحة 185 - er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak. Elephints a-pilin' teak In the sludgy, squdgy creek, Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak! On the road to Mandalay . . . But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an...
الصفحة 96 - Seeking to find the old familiar faces. Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces. How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
الصفحة 140 - I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door ; I talk on, in the same posture of praying ; eyes lifted up ; knees bowed down ; as though I prayed to God ; and, if God, or his angels should ask me, when I thought last of God in that prayer, I cannot tell : sometimes I find that I had forgot what I was about, but when I began...
الصفحة 140 - I throw my selfe downe in my Chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a Flie, for the ratling of a Coach, for the whining of a doore...
الصفحة 139 - Confusion now hath made his masterpiece. Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o
الصفحة 134 - Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Me rendra fou. " Le roi disait, en la voyant si belle, A son neveu : " — Pour un baiser, pour un sourire d'elle, " Pour un cheveu, " Infant don Ruy, je donnerais l'Espagne " Et le Pérou ! "— Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne Me rendra fou.
الصفحة 351 - ... petit animal folâtre ; un jeune homme ardent au plaisir, ayant tous les goûts pour jouir, faisant tous les métiers pour vivre; maître ici, valet là, selon qu'il plaît à la fortune; ambitieux par vanité, laborieux par nécessité, mais paresseux... avec délices! orateur selon le danger; poète par délassement; musicien par occasion; amoureux par folles bouffées, j'ai tout vu, tout fait, tout usé.
الصفحة 204 - Pneuma indeed, the Infinite Breath, the Divine Ghost, the great Blue Soul of the Unknown. All, all is blue in the calm, — save the low land under your feet, which you almost forget, since it seems only as a tiny green flake afloat in the liquid eternity of day. Then slowly, caressingly, irresistibly, the witchery of the Infinite grows upon you: out of Time and Space you begin to dream with open eyes, — to drift into delicious oblivion of facts, — to forget the past, the present, the substantial,...
الصفحة 294 - And yet atte the leest he hath his holsom walke and mery at his ease, a swete ayre of the swete savoure of the meede floures that makyth hym hungry.

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